Moonlight Murder Mystery
by SusieBogle
Summary: While still in 1950's L.A. see Parallel Lives story , Mick and Beth encounter the real Detective St. John trying to find the Black Dahlia serial killer. Submitted to Moonlight Gala fanfic contest


AS ALWAYS, I DON'T OWN MOONLIGHT OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS.

PREAMBLE: MICK AND BETH ST. JOHN HAVE NOW BEEN MARRIED FOR 24 YEARS WITH NEITHER GETTING OLDER. ALTHOUGH BETH IS STILL HUMAN, THEY BELIEVE BECAUSE OF HER RARE BLOOD TYPE, THAT MIGHT BE SOMEHOW CONNECTED TO VAMPIRE BLOODLINES AND HAS PREVENTED HER FROM AGING. THEY HAVE TWO GROWNUP CHILDREN, ELLIOTT (24) AND MARRIED; COLLEEN (COLLIE) IS 21 AND ENGAGED TO JOSEF'S SON, CHARLES "SPIKE" KOSTAN.

MICK HAS BEEN GIVEN A SMALL AMOUNT OF THE MORTAL CURE (COMPOUND) AS A SECOND HONEYMOON GIFT BY JOSEF AND MICK AND BETH DETERMINED TO TRY TO FIND STANDING STONES IN SCOTLAND AND ATTEMPT TIMETRAVEL. THEY WERE SUCCESSFUL BUT CAME BACK TO 1952 LOS ANGELES (UNFORTUNATELY TOO LATE AS MICK HAD ALREADY BEEN TURNED BY CORALINE). BETH IS FIVE MONTHS PREGNANT AND THE COUPLE ARE LIVING IN A ROOMINGHOUSE AND ENJOYING BEING IN THIS TIME PERIOD. THEY'VE TAKEN ON THE NAMES OF JAMES AND CLAIRE FRASER FROM BETH'S FAVORITE ROMANCE BOOK, "OUTLANDER". IT IS NEARING HALLOWEEN 1952.

SOME OF THIS STORY IS BASED ON REAL PEOPLE AND EVENTS. REALLY.

October 29, 1952 LOS ANGELES DAILY NEWS

"The famous Los Angeles detective, John (Jigsaw John) St. John, believes he knows who killed the Black Dahlia but has been unable to get enough corroborating proof to make an arrest. The Black Dahlia, Elizabeth "Beth" Short, was found in a vacant lot, brutally murdered, her body drained of blood, on January 15, 1947. Since then, Detective St. John has been sleuthing out the clues and trying to tie this heinous crime to others such as the "Torso Murders" of Cleveland, Ohio and also the "Texarcana Moonlight Murders."

Mick and Beth St. John have been reading the papers on a lazy Sunday morning at Mrs. Porter's roominghouse. All the other roomers are at church so it is nice to have the downstairs all to themselves. Suddenly Beth cries out, "Mick, you've got to read this!"

Barely looking up from his sports section, he gives it a quick glance and does a doubletake. "Does that say Los Angeles Detective John St. John?"

"Yes, can you believe it? Do you think you're related?

"Doubt it. But that is a pretty big coincidence."

"And, Mick, although I've heard about the Black Dahlia here in Los Angeles since I was a teenager, I never knew that her body was drained of blood. Did you?"

"No, but it's not unusual for the police to withhold key evidence from the press. It's what, five years since that murder. and he's probably trolling for eye witnesses who might be willing to come forward now."

"Still, could this have a vampire connection?"

"Possible. But my guess it's just some wannabe posing as one, since most vamps don't bother to dismember a body. Remember Josef just throws 'em into the tar pits."

"Or they call a cleaner. That is, Mick, do they have cleaners in the 1950's?"

"I never used 'em, and never heard of them until the late 70's after my disco period. What are you laughing at?"

"I can just see you and Josef looking like Duran Duran or worse, The Bee Gees with your open shirts and gold necklaces."

"Just two wild and crazy guys looking for the cool chicks? No, we never lacked for beautiful women thanks to Josef and certainly never had to go out looking for them. Most especially, we never cut them up after draining and dumped them out where they could be found. We were discreet."

Beth shudders. "Oh, here comes Alfred. Maybe you could just as discreetly ask him what he knows about these murders? After all, didn't he say he was working at a restaurant downtown in the late 40's?"

Later that night, in their room, "Beth, you were right! Alfred knows a lot about those murders but he's been hiding out. That's one scared man, says something about being hunted down."

"Scared? Why? What did he see? Does he know the murderer?"

"I think so but all I could get out of him was that the guy was tall, 6'4', and a butcher supplying the restaurant. He says he worked with him and one day heard too much and got out from under this guy's radar pronto."

"What did he hear? If he's got evidence, he needs to talk to Detective St. John."

"He says he won't testify but that this guy is a psycho who meets up with these dark haired beautiful women and somehow gets them to lure other women to him. Says this Beth Sharp worked with him in Cleveland and then became a liability so she was killed here."

"Is the murderer still in Los Angeles?"

"Alfred says he left and went to Texarcana but is back now. He doesn't want to get involved. Says if he's seen, he'll be next."

"Mick, we've got to do something."

"Like what, Beth? Man, if I were a vamp I would just go and take this guy out. But if I change, I might not have enough left to go back through the stones."

"What if we got Alfred's statement to Detective St. John? Couldn't he take it from there?"

"We'd have to hurry. Already Alfred's talking about leaving town. Says he's got a ticket on the next train east, the California Limited, tomorrow at 2pm."

"But that only gives us less than one day! And it's Halloween! We're invited to the party here. We'll be bobbing for apples, have the traditional reading of Poe's The Raven, ghost stories and of course, playing "Joe's Body."

"What the hell is "Joe's Body?"

"The lights are out and you're handed all sorts of icky things to feel as the voice tells you which part of the body it comes from. We have everything except for the livers and hearts, which Mrs. Anderson and I were going to go to the butcher's … oh, no, you don't! I see that smile. What's the plan?"

"Tell Belva we'll do the shopping but it'll be at a very different butcher's shop. We'll get Alfred's positive id on this guy and then get a notary to take his statement. The train is at 2pm so he can take off and be safe. Then we head over to Police Headquarters. I'd like to meet this St. John."

"We'd better make an appointment otherwise how do we know he'll be there?"

'Good idea but I'm betting he works long hours, especially on a case that's unsolved. He'll be more than intrigued. After all, he didn't get the nickname is "Jigsaw John" for sitting around only doing crossword puzzles."

The next day, Beth and Mick go into a rather disgustingly smelling butcher's shop in Chinatown. There they see a tall, skeletal looking man cutting meat to order. He is extremely adept at cutting, and looks like he takes pleasure in it. They quickly order and leave. Once outside, Alfred shakingly confirms the man and then all three head over by taxi to a notary. Signing it, Alfred heads for the train station. He suddenly is no longer nervous. He's done his civic duty and can leave knowing that the police will catch this creep.

Mick and Beth go by bus to the modern new police station at Parker Center, marveling at the terrazzo floors put in just a month ago and which still shine well into the 21st century. The police sergeant takes their names and leads them towards an office. A phone operator answer phone calls off the old plug in board and as they are being escorted down the hallway, calls out: "Anybody here know someone named James Fraser? I got a guy down at the train station, Alfred somebody, sounds real scared. Yes, sir, oh, he'll talk to Detective St. John. Putting you through right now, sir."

A minute later, John St. John comes running out of his office. A medium sized man with dark hair and a high forehead, he takes long apprising look at Mick and then Beth, and says "You the 3pm appointment with information on a particular unsolved murder? Not waiting for the answer, assuming yes. "Call all available squad cars. I need them to converge on Union Station right now. Suspect is a tall, extremely thin Caucasian male. Consider him armed and dangerous."

Beth is worried. "Was that our witness just now on the phone, Detective? Is he alright? "

"Madam, he is in mortal danger as he is being followed by my prime suspect. Says that this man must have seen him outside of a shop today and followed him. Sgt, escort these people to …"

Mick looks him right in the eye. "We're coming. It was our plan that exposed him. How fast can we get there?"

"But you're wife is anticipating. I can't in good conscience bring her along where there might be violence."

Mick St. John looks at his wife, seeing her about to calmly but thoroughly put this man in his place. "Detective, I've been in much worse danger than this and a man's life is at stake here. A life that I helped to endanger. I insist upon going." Mick smiles. "Just don't ask her to stay in the car. I've learned the hard way she won't do it." Giving Beth the look, "But I can guarantee she won't be taking any unnecessary chances with our child."

Giving them again that intense searching look, "Jigsaw John" acquiesces. They both know he's not finished with investigating them, not by a long shot, but he has more pressing business. "Sgt., let's go."

Ten minutes later, with the wah, wah sirens going and the strobing white and blue lights coming from at least ten cars, they pull up to the impressive pillars of Los Angeles Union Station. A young rookie fills them in, while gawking at Mick. "The um, suspect, just was located getting onto the California Limited."

"Where's our witness? He on the train, too?"

"We believe so, sir. What are your orders?"

The canny detective looks at Mick, as though, all right hotshot, what would you do?

Never one to hesitate, Mick swings into action. "I'd call the Santa Fe Railroad and tell them to stop that train. Where's the nearest place? San Bernardino. Have them stop the train there. Tell them it's a police emergency. And see if they can connect the dispatcher to the conductor onboard. He has to be told he's got a possible murderer onboard. Where's your fastest car? If they won't stop that train, we'll have to make them."

The car roars out of Los Angeles on the newest highway east, sirens wailing, they find The Limited stopped at a crossing half a mile outside of San Bernadino. Going around cars at the crossing, and heading along the side of the 18 car long passenger train, they stop at the dining car's drumhead SANTA FE sign. That is until they hear a shout and then the train starts moving again. Up front in the diesel engine, a man is dangling outside, held by some unseen person's long arms, until he is dropped, screaming, to the ground where he rolls to safety.

Mick and St. John are both giving orders. "Hurry and bring this car as close to that engine as possible." "Get as close to that engine as you can, I'll make a jump."

Beth looks at both of them and suppresses a laugh. Besides their strong resemblance, they've got to be related somewhere down the old gene pool. With her sweetest smile, the one with the steel resolve behind it, says "Faster, Sgt. Taggert. They're pulling away from us."

To Mick: "Look out, he's got a gun!

Mick looks at St. John: "If he's shooting at us, who's driving?"

St. John calls headquarters. "We have a possible dead engineer and shots have been fired by our suspect. Let the Santa Fe know they've got a possible runaway train. We're attempting to …" looks at Mick, amends that to say, "we're going to get onto that train but you'd better see to it that all crossings and signals are clear or else we're going to have an almighty wreck. That's right, a runway train heading for Barstow. Have them do whatever they need to do."

St. John is looking oddly at Mick again, who is almost in vampire mode but struggling to keep it at bay. "Let me handle this, St. John. You've been a desk jockey for a while now, right? I'm a lot more experienced at jumping onto moving targets." It looked like the detective was going to argue the point but never got the chance, because they had almost reached the lead engine. Diesel smoke is pouring out obscuring their view. "It's gaining speed. I doubt this car will be able to keep up much longer." And with a quick look at Beth, who sees his silvery eyes, in a blur he has leapt out of the car and kicked open the cab. Ten seconds later, the train is slowing, finally coming to a complete halt five hundred feet later.

Now what do I do, thought Beth? We don't have any of the compound with us. I'll have to think of an excuse for how he looks but "Jigsaw John" surely isn't the type to be satisfied with anything she could come up with. But then she notices Mick is gone.

"The suspect must have jumped off the train, sir. That there fella with you, whew doggies, sure can move. He must've gone after him once he got the train slowed down."

Beth silently thanked God. Phew, saved once again. I'll just have to look innocent. "Mrs. Fraser, you will be escorted back to the department. Taggert, take care of this lady, see that she has everything she needs, but don't let her go. I have quite a few questions and I will have answers before this night is over."

Oops, not out of the woods yet. But if she knows anything, it was that Mick would find her in time. Sure enough, when the squad car was stopped at an intersection near Parker Center, Mick is suddenly there at her side pulling her out of the car before the befuddled sergeant knew what had happened. Carrying her because it was faster with a pregnant woman, he uses alleys and side streets until they reach their rooming house.

The lights are all on and the jack o'lanterns have been carved and lit with candles. Beth gets an idea. "Mick, you mingle with the guests. They'll love your "costume" and I'll run upstairs and get the cure."

"Don't forget your costume – we might as well really shock 'em tonight."

Fifteen minutes later, I come down to hear raucous laughter with my Mick in the center of the room, making the children squeal with his pretend lunging at them, he's saying in his best Bela Lugosi: "Come vith me to Transylvania. I have some lovely fresh blood for you." Laughing, I come towards him when the room goes silent. Oops, again. I guess it's okay for him to be a real vampire but a pregnant nun is a big 1952 no-no. I slip the tin to Mick who disappears into the kitchen, much to the disappointment of everyone. Wish that I could have done that just a minute earlier as my face is burning with embarrassment. What was commonplace to denigrate in the 21st century sure was frowned on now. I turn away from them longing to go to the kitchen, well, why not? "Mrs. Fraser, Claire, how could you blaspheme?" Darn, now I've got Euphagenia Ralston, the spinster, after me.

And darn, double darn, here comes our favorite detective steaming mad. "Mrs. Fraser, how did you …? Ah, I beg your pardon, ladies and gentlemen. I forgot my manners."

I say, despairingly, "Welcome to Hell House, St. John. Everyone, this is the famous Los Angeles Crime Solver, Detective John St. John. You may know him by his nickname …", here I glance over at him questioning and he being a humble, good man but aware of his fame, nods yes, "Jigsaw John". We've just had the pleasure of meeting with him and assisting on trying to apprehend a possible suspect for the Black Dahlia murder. But let me have him tell you about it. Detective St. John?"

There, that ought to keep him at bay for a while I hurry back towards the kitchen, trying to throw off my nun's habit. Before I can get much past the whimple, I'm swept up into Mick's arms and thoroughly kissed. "I've always wanted to have a nun, must be my Catholic upbringing, dreaming about what they looked like underneath it all." And there he was, my Mick, back to human but looking more like a little devil. "Alright, my beautiful nun, how about we get you up to the nunnery before I take my big pitchfork … Ah, Detective."

Having seen us acting like a normal married couple, embarrassment causes his cheekbones to flame, John St. John says, "Folks, I don't know who you are or why you've gotten involved. By the looks of it, you're never going to tell me either? No, I didn't think you would. People get to have their secrets. But I've got to say, I've never seen anything like what I saw today. I must have been dreaming, Fraser, because for a minute there I thought you were uh, no, never mind. Can't be." Shaking his head, "Anyway, we lost the suspect but now have some good leads on his whereabouts. We'll catch him sooner or later. And Fraser, I've seen plenty of men but none that can take command so effortlessly and well, if you ever need a job, you're welcome to join the Los Angeles Police Department. You'd make a fine detective some day."


End file.
